Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1887-09-10
A GHOST STORY.
BY CLARA MERWIN.

BY CLARA MERWN.
Ten years ago I was in the first sor-
row of my life. When the grave closed
over my parents L thought that there
was no place left for me in the world.
was rich, young, and my friends and
nv own reflections in the glass told me
that I was pretty. Of course, 1 had
many acquaintance; what rich young
girl has not? But acquaintance and
friends differ widely. 1 did not care
for the people who fattered and made
much of me, but turned, even in the
first days of my trouble, to one friend.
She, too, was young and handsome.
We were schoolmates, but since leaving
school we had seen little of each other
but when my parents died and Martha
Clifton wrote to me tenderly out of her
full heart, I answered back her love.
She asked me to stay with her, and l
went. How peaceful were those days
spent in her beautiful home! The
house and place were called Clifton s
Vale. The house was many centuries
old. It's architecture was remarkable
its rooms curious, 1t was a rambling
old place, and of course it had ghost.
It stood in the midst of very lovely
grounds, overlooking wood and river.
Altogether it was one Of the most
lovely show-places in Newton.
I staid with the Cliftons for couple
of months, end during that time the
house was quiet, visitors were few,
they eschewed company for my sake.
At the end of two months I left them,
comforted and helped, and with many
promises of return by and by. Cir
cumstances, however, too varied and
too many to mention, prevented that
second viait taking place for couple
of years. At the end of that time a
great longing came over me to see
Martha Clifton again. I must write to
her and promise visit. I did so. and
by return of post [ got short but very
characteristic reply:
DEAREST HATT1E:-Of course I long to see
you, but unfortunately the house is full
Large as it s, it is crammed from cellar to
attic. My dear, / don't want to refuse you.
do long to see you. Will you sleep in the
Tapestry room? for it is empty. l dare not
put anybody else there, but l don't think you,
Tapestry -oom will do, come, and a thousand
welcomes can put up your maid.
Your loving friend,
MARTHA CLIFTON.
To this letter I made short answer.
I do not believe in the ghost. The
Tapestry room will do beautifully. Ex-
pect me tomorrow. The next evening
I arrived at Clifton's Vale in time for
dinner. The Tapestry room looked
charming. I fell in love with it on the
spot, and vowed laughingly that the
ghost and I would make friends. My
maid, however, looked grave over my
testing remarks; it was plain that she
believed in supernatural visitations
Gayety of heart, however, was over
me. l could not resist the influence of
my old friends company. I felt hap
pier than 1 had been since my parents
death, and after very delightful even
ing, retired to my room, feeling brave
enough to encounter any number of
ghosts that might choose to visit me.
The Tapestry room was quite away from
the rest of the house--it was at the ex-
IL eme end of the wing. No other bed
rooms were in tie wing. There was q
morning-room, and a
little oriel chamber, which Mrs. Cliff
ton, in her early married life had curl
ously fitted up for herself, but now sell
dom occupied. Neither did she believe
in the ghost, but she confessed that this
little oriel chamber had an eerie feeling.
The morning-room opposite, cheer
full and pretty enough. was unused. Its
furniture was antique; it belonged to a
by-gone day. and its inhabitants were
dead. The smoking-room also was de-
serted; even the fumes of tobacco had
left it, the Judge preferring more
central apartment in the modern part
Of the house. Altogether this wing of
the old house seemed dead. Visitors
only came to it out of curiosity; they
paid brief visits, and preferred doing
SO in broad daylight. 1t must have
been quite hundred years since the
In the far end of this
wing had been slept in. Old as the
other rooms in the wing looked, the
bore quite the palm of
ancient appearance. There was not an
article of furniture in it, not chair,
uOb b tttUle, WHICH muSG uOt nave seen
che light of centuries.
The furniture was all of the blacklist
oak; the bedstead, the usual four-pos-
ter on which our ancestors loved to
stretch themselves. But the curious
feature of the room, that which gave it
its name, was the tapestry. Not an
inch of the walls was to be seen; they
we're hung completely with very an
cient and very faded tapestry. There
was story about this tapestry. One
Dame Clifton, of long, long by-gone
lays, had worked it, with the help of
her maidens. She had come to an un-
timely end on the very day on which
the great work of her life had been
1t does not matter to this story what |
became of the proud and fair dame, but |
t was her ghost which was said to
haunt the wing and the Tapestry cham
Der in particular. Warden, my maid. as
The helped me to undress, looked quite |
pale with terror. "They do say, ma'am,
.